


Between The Shadow and The Soul

by poisontaster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Biting, M/M, Marking, Sexual Coercion (past)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3890983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is changing.  Scott's starting to notice. (Scott is 17 in this work)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between The Shadow and The Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Very loosely connected to [Any Port in a Storm](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1116365), but no previous experience should be necessary.
> 
> Many thanks to LaT for cleaning up after me.

They've been making out so long that Scott's whole body feels like that one time in Mexico when he got sunburned: glowing and throbbing and radiating with heat that verges on pain.

"Hey," he says, after one last fat suck on Derek's lower lip, "could we, uh. Maybe get to the part where we get naked?"

Derek's eyes crinkle and the warmth of his laugh makes Scott shiver with hung-up tension. Then he rears back onto his knees over Scott and peels his shirt off over his head. Scott can't help it, his hands creeping up to grab, to touch: the satin skin over the bones of Derek's sharp-cut hips, the wiry feather of hair leading up from his groin… Except there seems to be a lot more hair than Scott remembers, the smooth expanse of Derek's chest dappled in fine down across his pectorals and down his center line. 

"This is new," Scott says, running his fingers across it from one tight puckered nipple to the other and back. He remembers how Derek kept scratching his chest through his tee-shirt tonight and suddenly it makes a lot more sense. He looks up at Derek and Derek's looking back at him, that sharp, wary look that means he's waiting for Scott to fuck up, hurt him, let him down. 

It's still kind of hard not to take that look personally, to remind himself that it's just who Derek is, and it might _always_ be. But this time, he's doing all right, it doesn't feel personal, and he can look back at Derek with just what he feels: _You're beautiful. I love you. Whatever this is, it doesn't change anything._

Derek shrugs. "I decided to stop waxing."

There's a dare in his tone that Scott has no desire to take him up on, but it doesn't even matter, because his mind is on a whole other issue. "You wax?"

The fight on Derek's face collapses and it's replaced by an equally familiar exasperation. He settles back on his heels, a weight on Scott's thighs. "Did you think I looked like this naturally?"

"Well, yeah!" Scott leans up on his elbow, his other hand still tracing the feathering of hair. It has the prickly edges of new growth. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Okay, but you've seen my beard and my forearms and my legs." Derek tilts his head, eyebrows coming together in over his nose. "I _have_ body hair."

"I thought maybe it was a werewolf thing," Scott says. Derek's been growing out the hair on his head, too. Not _long_ , but definitely long _er_ , thick and soft, just enough to really get a grip on, which both of them seem to like a lot. "Okay, honestly," Scott says, enjoying the way Derek arches as Scott scritches down his torso, "I didn't really think about it at all. It was just your body." Scott slides his hand over the swell of Derek's cock, tight in his pants, and grins. "I like your body."

"Still?"

"Always." Scott pushes up from the mattress to wrap both arms around Derek, bury his face against Derek's throat and tease the skin with his dropped fangs. 

"Fuck," Derek hisses, grabbing Scott tight and holding him there, craning his neck for it. _"Scott."_

Scott bites down, a salt and copper explosion of Derek's blood in his mouth, and then he stops thinking about Derek's hair and how much or little he has.

***

"Stop _playing_ with it," Derek says irritably, opening one eye. Scott had thought he was asleep, but apparently not.

"I can't help it," Scott protests. The sun is going down, painting them both in reddish gold and an unrelenting heat that completely negates whatever sad breeze comes in through the open windows. It makes Scott want to just curl up around Derek and nap, but he can't take his eyes or his fingers off the planes of Derek's body. "I just… I can't believe I never knew this about you."

"There's a lot that you don't know about me," Derek says, and Scott can't tell if he's playing or serious until a bit of a smile curls Derek's lips. 

"Does it bother you?" Scott asks, rubbing the hair on Derek's chest against the grain, flicking across his nipple, which draws up hard and stiff again. "Does it hurt?"

Derek looks sideways at him. "It's _hair_ , Scott. Don't make such a big deal out of it." But he tucks his arms behind his head and crosses his legs without telling Scott to stop. Which he would, if he really wanted Scott to stop.

"I'm not making a big deal of it," Scott says, which is maybe, slightly, a little bit a lie. "Just…it's new. I want to know it, like I know the rest of you."

Derek sighs. "Do what you want," he sighs, but at the same time, he hitches a little closer across the mattress. Scott hides his grin against Derek's side, leaning down and scratching his teeth across Derek's ribs. Derek lets out a quiet, pleased sigh and his entire body goes soft, relaxed. 

Scott sucks a bruise into the skin, purple and swollen, then leans back to admire it. "Does that hurt?"

The glance Derek gives him this time is glazed and happy. "Yeah," Derek says, only a puff of sound. His hand slides across his torso to explore the bruise's edges, to press hard into its plum-black center. 

It's weird. He's so careful with everyone else, so afraid of hurting people, but when it comes to Derek, he wants to leave his mark all over Derek's body like a leopard's spots, bites and scratches and hickeys. Because Derek likes it, too.

"So why'd you start waxing?" Scott asks, snuggling up to Derek's side and nuzzling at his shoulder. "I don't remember any trophies from you being on the swim team or anything."

"First of all, that was _years ago_ and secondly…" Derek disentangles himself from Scott and sits up, looping his arms over his knees. His voice drops, all the teasing fading out. "I started waxing because Nichos wanted me to."

The name isn't familiar. But right before the "Who's that?" tumbles carelessly from his mouth, Scott figures out who it _must_ be, and he snaps his teeth shut on the question. 

Derek hasn't told him much about his time in New York, but what he has said leaves Scott speechless and stiff with helpless, volcanic rage. And now he has a name to put to it. _Nichos_ , who made Derek trade sex for shelter for him and Laura. 

Nichos.

"Oh," Scott says, because he doesn't know what else to say, and Derek's probably waiting for some kind of response. "That. That's a good reason to stop."

Derek snort-laughs and though he's still tight-wrapped, it's a little looser than a second ago. "I could've stopped a long time ago, I guess," Derek says, straightening up and scratching his chest. 

Scott doesn't say anything, because, so far, that's the best plan when Derek starts actually _talking_ about something. So he just stretches out at Derek's feet and tries not to look too interested, unless it makes Derek clam up again. 

"It just got to be a habit, something I did. I didn't really think about it." Derek shrugs. "And I just kept doing it."

Scott chews on that for a minute, that Derek did this so much and for so long—for Nichos—that he basically forgot that he could stop. 

"Okay," Scott says, when it seems like that's all Derek's going to say about it, "but now you're stopping."

"Am I?" Derek's been dodging Scott's gaze, but now he looks at him full-on. His irises are doing that thing they do, where Scott can't tell if they're blue or green or even gray. "I don't know. It feels weird. It's _itchy_ ," he growls, scratching again, "and…apparently, my boyfriend thought I was that hairless naturally."

"Just 'cause I thought it doesn't mean that I need you to look like that!" Scott protests, "Or that I want you to do that! Derek, c'mon!"

Derek sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I know."

"Derek." Scott twists up onto his knees, throwing his arms around Derek's neck and pressing their foreheads together. "Look, you're a hot guy, I know you know that, and yeah, I see it, I notice it, but dude. It's not about how you look." He pets down the wiry-soft down on Derek's chest. "It's your body. Do what you want with it. Whatever it is…I'm still going to like it. And I'll still love you."

"It wasn't just Nichos," Derek says, his lids closed and the eyes moving underneath like he can see those old memories. "I get that you think that, but…it was a whole thing, looking a certain way, _presenting_ myself as a certain kind of guy…a guy that I don't want to be anymore."

"Then don't." Scott tightens his arms, wishing he could hold more of Derek within them. 

"You think it's that easy?" Derek's voice breaks rawly over the question.

"I don't know," Scott admits. "But I'll help you with it, I'll do or be whatever you need, to help you figure it out and to change. You're amazing, Derek. You can be whatever you want to be, and if this isn't it, then we'll figure it out. Just let me help."

Derek puts his hand over one of Scott's, a clumsy pet, turning his face so he and Scott are almost nose to nose. "You're helping," he says. When he opens his eyes, they're bright, dazzling with not-quite tears. "It's only because of you I realized that there's something else to change to."

Scott blinks and settles back on his knees. "Really?"

Derek rolls his eyes, but in a good way. "Really." He reaches for Scott's hand and moves it so Scott's fingers are cupped around his neck, holding it there until Scott leaves it there, not choking, but where he could, if he wanted. "I can show you the pieces of me and I don't feel like you'll stab me with them." He pushes Scott down, onto his back, and Scott goes, though he keeps his easy clasp around Derek's throat. "It's why I can do this."

Scott's more than halfway there, anyway, but Derek strokes him the rest of the way to hardness, and then sinks down on his cock. Scott hisses as Derek takes him; it hasn't been that long, but Derek's tightened up again, only the remainder of lube and Scott's come to ease the way, and probably not enough of either. 

As Derek rides him, slow and smug and beautiful as a sun god with the light pouring down on him, Scott thinks he must be the luckiest person alive.

  
_“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,  
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”_ ~Pablo Neruda


End file.
